


A Beautiful and Cruel World

by Eon-Flamewing (eonflamewing)



Category: Samurai Warriors
Genre: Gen, I couldn't sleep and wrote fanfic at 3am I'm trash, OH GOD WHY
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 04:29:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1844428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eonflamewing/pseuds/Eon-Flamewing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is intended to be a sort of small collection of drabbles that I write once in a while. It will be mostly about the two Kobayakawas tagged, but there might be other characters making a minor appearance here and there.</p><p>I'll update this once I finish a piece and find it polished enough to post.</p><p>The overall title... well. I am bad at titles. Though it's going to be a running theme, so yeah.</p><p>Apologies for any eye-burning that may result from my terrible writing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Questions

**Author's Note:**

> Forever a work never finished, yeah. I have too many feels about these kids.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Children are more complicated than adults.

Takakage was seated rather rigidly in the study. The low table before him was strewn with papers - letters inked in various scripts, the occasional formal report, and tables of figures crossed out here and there. A single shaft of sunlight made it past dense foliage and through the screened window, illuminating a hastily scrawled paragraph.  
  
The strategist sighed, picking up the creased sheet and squinting at its tangled script. The retainer's handwriting was bad enough on its own, and reading it just had to be further complicated by the man's excessive use of grammar clauses. He had to guess where a few ending kanji ought to be, and each sentence meandered on before finally concluding after several missing full stops.  
  
It did resemble Motonari's writings, though. At least that was some form of consolation.  
  
There was a faint knock on the door. The sound repeated itself a few seconds later, stronger this time.  
  
"Come in." Takakage replied without looking up.  
  
The door slowly slid open a little, just enough for a small figure to admit himself.  
  
"Good morning, father." Hideaki plopped down next to him, peering over his shoulder. "Aww, you're doing paperwork again..."  
  
"Yes, I am." Takakage returned the piece of paper to a growing stack on a corner of the desk. The strategist turned to face his son, smiling faintly - but the dark shadows beneath his eyes betrayed the weariness that he was trying to fight off. "Have you decided on any activities today, Hideaki?"  
  
The boy tilted his head a little. "Not really. It's too early to go sailing, and no one will probably take me anyway. All the adults are too uptight to even spare time for a kid like me. Hiroie and Uncle Motoharu are out too, I have no idea where, and all the servants are busy. " He stood up and walked to the bookshelf lining one wall, absently poking at the spines. "What even is there to do around here, anyway?"  
  
"Well, you could always read a book." Takakage indicated the codexes upon the walls. "There are plenty here for your perusal."  
  
Hideaki pouted a little, but turned back to scanning the shelves when it became clear that his father would not say any more. Takakage watched the boy for a few more seconds, then returned to sorting through the papers. No words were exchanged between them for a good ten minutes - the son had found one to occupy himself with, and the father had to do administrative work.  
  
After a while, Hideaki grew bored and left the book on the floor. His gaze fell upon one tome he had not browsed before - his father's personal strategy book, placed on the floor by his side. It was a simple one bound with string, and decorated with a print of bamboo leaves. Though, an abstract calligraphy pattern filled the space where the title should have been. What, then, was inside it? He reached for the book, curious.  
  
"Please refrain from reading that."  
  
Takakage's voice was still placid, without the slightest hint of irritation of displeasure. Hideaki froze, but he did not make any move to withdraw his hand.  
  
Three seconds passed. The strategist did not look up from his work.  
  
"It contains strong sealing magic. I am afraid I do not know what will transpire if you touch it."  
  
Oh.  
  
The boy frowned. He debated for a moment whether to disregard the request and take the book anyway - but his father never lied, did he? It sounded vaguely like a threat...  
  
... best not to refuse. Even though a part of him wanted to see how much of a reaction he would get from continued disobedience, logic eventually won.  
  
"Okay, father, I won't."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Hideaki waited a few more moments for anymore words, but there was only silence from his father.   
  
He seemed... pretty detached. Different from how he had conducted himself at the official handover - but then again, everyone had reasons to suck up to Hideyoshi. The Kobayakawa clan wasn't an exception...   
  
The boy absent-mindedly kicked at something on the ground - a book. It did not tumble away, merely sliding along the floor.  
  
"... hey, father, may I ask you some questions?"  
  
"Sure, go ahead. I will answer the best I can."  
  
Hideaki tapped his chin with a finger. "Tell me, how would you treat a fresh wound?"  
  
The answer came almost immediately, delivered in Takakage's usual composed tone. "It depends on the condition, of course. The priority is to staunch bleeding and perform disinfection. For larger open injuries, they will need suturing. Broken bones need to be set, and the individual given rest for recovery."  
  
The boy's gaze fell upon the garden outside the window. "Why is there a stone underneath that cherry blossom tree?"  
  
"It is my mother's gravestone. When she was alive, the tree was her favourite part of the garden."  
  
Takakage replied with a serene calm that was on par with his previous words.  
  
"Why do people remember bad things more than good things?"  
  
"Pain scores deeper scars into the psyche, and sometimes these scars grow much larger over time. So, it is all too easy to overlook or discredit the potential happiness that arrives afterwards."  
  
Hideaki frowned, but said frown quickly changed to a smile. If he was going to play  _that_  card...  
  
"Then, how do you take away the stupidity and selfishness of adults?"  
  
Takakage said nothing for a good ten seconds, placing the papers in his hands onto the table.  
  
"I do not know."  
  
For the first time, Hideaki could sense a tremor in the stratregist's voice.  
  
So far, so good. "Then you're saying that adults will always be stupid and selfish."  
  
"No. I merely said that I do not know how to cleanse the hearts of others."  
  
Again, a decision. To press on further, or to wait for another opening?  
  
He decided to wait. The second response did arrive.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
... huh.  
  
And it came again.  
  
"I am very sorry. I do not know."  
  
Takakage had his back to Hideaki, and thus his tone was the only available indicator. He sounded not just politely apologetic, but also... sad. Not in the 'I am sad because I am burdened with the job of putting up with an unwanted child and I cannot answer all his stupid questions satisfactorily' way, but...   
  
... never mind. The man was probably pretending, anyway.  
  
Or was he...?  
  
 ~~~~ _ ~~but he can't hope. he must never hope, for that hope will be ripped from his grasp as soon as it grows strong enough to warm his heart, to start melting all the ice that's caked around it. not his own ice, mind you, but the frigid and paradoxical burn of neglect and disdain. who ever wanted a discarded child who was tossed like a rag doll between vassal clans juggling a troublesome piece of responsibility?~~_  
  
 _ ~~not you, that's for sure...~~_


	2. Blades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hideaki tries to kill his dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episode 2 of Eon writing fanfiction at 3am aka why you should never force out anything because it will be shitty as hell

This wasn't the first time it had happened.

There were grating sounds coming from somewhere inside the inner keep. It mostly occurred in the evenings just after dinner, but occasionally the scratching would sound at other times of the day.

At first, Takakage had thought it to be some workmen repairing the inner garden's mortar - they were engaged in the task, but the noise was not of their doing. And it continued after the construction was done, too. After a week, several servants were beginning to complain. Mired in paperwork as he was, he didn't really have the time to look into the matter - until tonight. Which served to remind him how neglectful he had been.

But at least he had gotten all that work settled, for now. And that meant he had time to try and make up for it.

The strategist exited the dimly lit study - the grating sounds had started again. Rubbing the fatigue from his eyes, he willed his ears to lead him to its source...

... he supposed he ought to have expected where it was coming from.

It took him two tries to get the door open. He fumbled too much with the catch on the first attempt, but managed to focus and coax it open the second time.

The screen door slid open smoothly, almost silently, to reveal Hideaki seated cross-legged on the floor. With the blade of a large scythe on his lap, as well as what was presumably a whetstone.

For a moment the boy froze and the grating noises ceased, but he looked up two seconds later. Upon recognition, he immediately rearranged his features into an innocent, cherubic smile.

Ah.

Takakage said nothing. While his expression maintained its usual neutrality, the thought running through his mind were anything but. It had taken no time at all to deduce that Hideaki had been sharpening his weapon, and the implications of such an act were unfolding rapidly in his mind -

"Good evening, father!"

Hideaki cut in before he could form a coherent statement. The boy placed the whetstone on the floor and stood up, though his hand never left the scythe's handle.

The greeting jolted Takakage from his thoughts. Luckily, he managed to recover in time to deliver a proper response.

"Good evening, Hideaki." His gaze flitted past the boy to the weapon in his hands. The scythe was even larger than its wielder, and surprisingly decorated - while the blade itself was plain, there were wrought accents on the handle and scythe head.

The boy beamed, absent-mindedly tracing one of the patterns on the handgrip. "If you wanted to see me, then why don't you come in?"

Takakage hesitated. He had left his sword and tome back in his own study. If he were to be attacked, it would be very difficult to disarm Hideaki without hurting him. The boy had an almost perfected emotional shield. And for someone at such a tender age to possess a skill that had taken him fifteen years to master...

... he closed his eyes briefly and stepped into the room.

Hideaki seemed pleased. He stayed put, waiting for his father to come close enough to warrant proper conversation before speaking.

"You finally came to see me." Pause. "I've been waiting so long, my stuff are starting to get dull!" The boy pouted a little.

"I am sorry." Takakage tried to still his voice. "I will try to make more time for you in the future."

Hideaki's eyes flashed - suddenly icing over into a piercing stare, the acid of a world-weary adult coming from the innocent gaze of a child -

\- _don't bother trying,_ they said. _You're just lying. I can tell, you know. Don't expect me to trust you just because you're pretending to be nice._

And then it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by his usual cherubic smile.

"I'll hold you to your words, then!"

It took all of Takakage's willpower not to flinch. His gaze shifted once more to the weapon held at the child's side.

"May I know how you obtained it?"

"Oh, this?" Hideaki giggled a little. "I asked Auntie Nene to give me one."

"... I see."

"Isn't it pretty?"

He twirled it nonchalantly - the weapon moved through the air with a fluid, almost terrifying grace. It was either lighter than expected, or it's wielder was much stronger than he looked.

"Well... you do keep it quite well maintained."

The unspoken question was folded neatly into his statement. A bait which Hideaki took.

The boy tapped his chin with his knuckles. "You never know when you'll need it."

Takakage blinked slowly. There was a significant pause before he replied.

"You are safe here, Hideaki. There are guards outside the gates, and no strangers are allowed into the keep. No one will hurt you." _I promise._

The boy froze for a second. Then two. Then three.

Abruptly, he straightened up and beamed again - but differently, this time. He made no effort to mask the poison in his gaze, corrupting his smile into one equal parts cynical and spiteful.

"Oh, do you really think so?" His voice dropped to a whisper, poised delicately upon the precipice of laughter. "How... _naive_ of you, father. Please don't expect to win me over with such cheap tricks."

The boy took a measured step forward, and then another - slowly forcing Takakage against one wall.

"Pity you don't have a wife." The scythe twirled again in his hands. "A pity, then, that you'll be _burdened_ with me, for the foreseeable future. And when all is said and done, you'll throw me away."

He flicked his wrist and the weapon spun forward, blade glinting in the evening light -

\- and stopped short in midair.

Takakage had reacted almost instinctively, shifting sideways and catching the scythe by its handle. Hideaki's eyes widened and he tried to snatch it back, but his father had already moved it out of reach. The boy's smile had disappeared.

Minutes passed. The father's lucid gaze did not waver, and the son could not look away.

"I'm sorry, Hideaki."

Takakage closed his eyes.

"Just... please. _Please._ "

His voice trembled; crystalline and lacquered with a long-suppressed sorrow.

"Please... don't do this."

He gently pressed the scythe's handle back into Hideaki's hands. The boy received it silently, watching him with an unreadable expression.

Takakage turned away and made for the door.

"I'm sorry."

His voice had regained a measure of its usual calm. But the pain inside was still evident. The door closed behind him.

A breeze slid in through the window and dusted the single lamp within, plunging the room into shadow.

And Hideaki stood within, silent. He had not moved.

_~~Please... please don't do this. I know it hurts. I know how much it pains you, and I understand. I can't take away what has already been done, and I am very sorry. But I can still help. I won't leave you alone, I promise.~~ _

_~~Just... please. Please, don't shut yourself away.~~ _


End file.
